Trip to Cebu

For all the times I've been to Cebu, I always go home feeling a longing for it yet again. I always tell myself that if there would be one place in the Philippines that I would relocate to, it would definitely be in Cebu; it feels like my second home. I have a whole bunch of friends and relatives there who I love to pieces and the simplicity of life there makes me comfortable rather than make my short attention span-self go crazy. I've always revered how there was hardly any traffic and that you can actually do a lot in one day rather than spend almost half of your day in the car.
My cousin, who I fondly call H, was our constant companion and he made sure we ate at different restaurants on every meal, getting me to try all the house specialties. The most memorable were the ribs in Casa Verde, Seafood Soup on Teapot in Ginza and the superb Brownie a la mode in La Marea (rightfully their most famous dessert that got my brother praising it effusively to me from his last trip). But my favorite of the lot would be Ginza, hands down; I LOVE Japanese food and apart from serving really great Japanese dishes, its quiet modern ambiance--that reminded me a lot from a scene in Kill Bill-- would compete well against Manila restaurants. Bad lighting didn't do justice to my brownie moment

My four day trip to Cebu was bitin (not enough), to say the least. Memories haven't even had the time to settle themselves in nor even create new ones. I remember a lot of first times there -- it was in Cebu that I thoroughly practiced my driving, where my friend M and I would start early, drive far, and practice just about anywhere. He taught me tips and tricks and always reminded me to plssss be patient. I learned how to make california maki there, right in my cousin's now-defunct Japanese restaurant; where that night, I bought for myself the bamboo mat used for rolling, but somehow I never got around to making any, let alone know where they are now. My Ako (aunt) would make me tsokolate every morning and I remembered thinking that it tasted different from my mom's tsokolate back home; it was sensually smoky and bittersweet with an almost imperceptible grainy mouthfeel. She showed me the proper way of making them using a clay jar and a batirol and despite having a gentle manner, she's got quick hands! Clasping the batirol with both hands, she whisked vigorously and up, up the bubbles go, resulting on a relatively thick tsokolate with all the flavors packed in the tablea optimally released. Needless to say, I went home with my own jar and batirol and hundreds of tableya.

So, really, how could I not love the place? I experienced my first fiesta there, wherein it never even occurred to me to actually witness one in Manila.

Interesting.